In The End
by darkotter
Summary: He was the one who recorded everything. And now he's the only one left and even though a Bookman is supposed to have no heart, his heart is aching. After the end of the war. Drabble.


The start of this idea was not mine. My dear thievingfox came up with the theory that the whole of DGM was being written by Lavi, that he was the last one, and that he was writing everything down. That all the stuff that we saw was just everything he was writing. Well, I found this awesome (sad but still cool) and so I asked her if I could use it to write a story. And here it is.

Written as if Lavi was recording everything.**_ May contain spoilers._**

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_I had to fall  
To lose it all  
But in the end  
It doesn't even matter _

_- Linkin Park  
_

_This will be the last entry on the hidden war between the Millennium Earl, the Noah, and the machines known as the Akuma, and the Black Order. The battle ended October 13th, 1887, late in the afternoon. The exact time is unknown and unimportant. The Exorcists of the Black Order were the victors of this battle. A list of deaths is included but information on a majority of deaths will not be mentioned at this point in time. _

_The Destroyer of Time, Allen Walker, host for the 14th Noah, is included within the list of dead. His death, however, is crucial, for he was the one responsible for the Millennium Earl's downfall. _(Here Lavi's pen paused, hovering over the paper for several seconds. He could not mention anything to do with his friendship to the boy, or how it had felt when he saw him die.) _He gave his life to tip the scale in the battle, giving the Exorcists the chance to finally beat their enemy. _

He stopped writing, staring down at the papers strewn across the desk, all in order and labeled; the last chapter to the Exorcist-Akuma War (also known as the Hidden War). But he couldn't finish that last page, at least not now. His heart ached. How could this happen? A Bookman had no need for a heart, so it shouldn't be aching now anyway.

But here he was, staring down at the history that he had lived, that had already past. And his heart ached as he thought about it. Even though the events that had been shown in the documents were past. He placed his pen down on the paper. He would finish this later.

Running a hand through his hair and over his face tiredly, he stood up and took several steps away from the desk. He had been here for a while and his heart wasn't the only thing that was aching. Bookmen were supposed to record everything (and recording did take a long time) but he was lagging. He didn't want to write about these people. The ones who had made the 49th Lavi, instead of all of the others before him, and most of them were gone.

He closed his eye, memories coming back crystal clear. And they would always be crystal clear, painstakingly imprinted into his mind like all of his other memories of all those other wars. But this was different. When he though of the people...instead of the dead, or ink on paper, or lists that Bookman had written out, he saw them. Their smiling faces. He had to smile a little.

It had been so much fun to make fun of Kanda. He knew he never really would hurt him, although his threats were fun to hear. And pointing out how much Allen ate. He remembered when they had been stuck in the infirmary and he had found all that food under the boy's bed.

And then the pain came back. A pain that was so much different than any other kind of pain he had felt. He had never felt his heart ache so much, besides the time right after the battle. He was of course talking about pain before meeting the Order and the Exorcists and everyone else. And this pain was different than bodily pain. This was deep.

He remembered everything so clearly and he wish he hadn't. But he couldn't not remember like that, because that's what he was. So he let his mind wander to the images. Of Kanda and Allen bickering, even in battle. To the end they bickered, although he knew that they didn't hate each other.

They both fell like hero's.

And he had tried to help, but he had been preoccupied by a different Noah, a different place. He had seen them fall. He had never seen hero's like the ones in the Black Order. But they had lost so many of those hero's. He made a face, eye still closed to shut out the light streaming into the room, as he thought of Lenalee.

He couldn't help it. He had lost his two best friends, but Komui and Lenalee still had each other. He had stayed back when they had seen each other. He knew that Lenalee was one of them, and she was his friend as well, but it seemed unfair that she got something like that.

He pushed these thoughts aside. He pushed everything out of his mind, opening his eye. Walking over to the door the redhead opened it and leaned against the door frame as golden sunlight blazed over him and into the room. He looked out across the lane and the fields.

They were gone. Not all, but most. And he still had to finish the list of the dead. All that had past, the months or years (he didn't remember this small fact, it seemed so much longer) that he had been with those people...and now he was the only one who would remember them so clearly. He was the only one who had another responsibility. He had to continue going, continue writing.

But their story would stop here. Although he never would forget them. Never. He would always remember Allen Walker, how he fought so valiantly, a sun so bright he was sometimes blinding, stubborn in his own ways. He would always remember Kanda, how he didn't let the enemy gain ground, sometimes the only storm that could dim the sun that was Allen, and much more stubborn than the silver haired chosen boy. And everyone else who had fallen.

He wished he could've helped them. That the only history he had to record for them was that they lived happily. But even though he tried as hard as he could he couldn't take up the paths they chose themselves. He knew that they had chosen. Many knew that they would die. But that didn't stop them.

The Bookman sighed and closed the door, going back to the desk. He knew that he would never forget them, but that still didn't ease his aching heart. Time continued on and in the end, nothing really mattered. This hidden war would probably never be read about. He tried not to think of that. They were no longer just ink on paper.

He continued writing.

He would never forget. Never. Lavi would always remember.

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Please review. I love to know what you guys think! This is a drabble and there will be **no more** so don't ask me to continue. Thank you!!  
_This fanfiction goes along with a picture I drew and is posted on deviantART. Please go look! _.com -- "In The End"


End file.
